


Netflix and 'Oh'

by softbiker



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Netflix and Chill, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22270522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softbiker/pseuds/softbiker
Summary: Bucky's girl has a long day at work, and he does his best to make it better.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 146





	Netflix and 'Oh'

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at smut, so please let me know what you think!

A fuzzy vibration in his pocket alerts him to a text.

_Kill me._

Unable to hold back a snort, he bites his lip and swipes at the screen. His thumbs flutter over the keyboard.

_No can do, babydoll. Not an assassin anymore, remember?_

Merely a few seconds pass, little dots floating in the conversation bubble, before her reply buzzes back.

_I’m sure you’ve retained some of your skills…or maybe I should ask Natasha?_

_Please, I taught Nat everything she knows. And I’d still take her out before I’d let her kill you - your butt is too cute._

_So is yours, Handsome ;)_

The muscles in his cheeks hurt from the silly grin stretching up the corners of his mouth, but he can’t help himself with her, it’s just too easy. Too fun.

_Well, if you’re NOT going to put me out of my misery…then you at least owe me a good night tonight._

Done and done. The whole team knows - and teases him frequently - that he spoils her, worships her, bends over backwards at her every request. It’s not his fault; she wrapped him around her finger the day they met, and it’s such a sweet place to be, he’s never bothered untangling himself. And she always gives as good as she gets, every time.

_What did you have in mind, sweetheart?_

_Pizza and Netflix. Preferably with your hand down my pants._

Oh and there it is - that lovely little tingle down his spine, warmth in his belly, ever-present between them. His funny girl, always teasing. Teeth tug at his bottom lip as he deliberates over his response, thumbs poised over the screen.

_It’s a date._

He tacks on that little emoji with the winking kiss face and hits send. Glances at his watch - a little past 3 in the afternoon; she’ll be off work at 5, probably straight out the door if she’s having such a bad day, but if the traffic is bad or she gets stuck at her desk, it’ll probably be closer to 6 when she gets home.

Slipping his phone in his back pocket, he looks around at the apartment, a quick survey of the last 5 days’ damage - a few dishes in the sink and on the stove, dirty socks peeled off in the hallway, a basket of clean clothes waiting to be folded. He nods to himself, prioritizes his task list, and tackles the kitchen first. After loading the dishwasher, he goes back to the bedroom, digging in the side pocket of his backpack for his headphones; he slips them in and turns on the next episode of that conspiracy theory podcast he’s become obsessed with (not that he’ll admit it, but _she_ thinks it’s hysterical) and gets back to work, giving their home as deep a clean as he can in the couple of hours he has. On an afterthought, he lights a couple of scented candles - her favorites, the ones that smell like roasting marshmallows - throughout the place, letting the rooms fill with a warm scent.

A few minutes past 5, he stands in the living room, hands on his hips, and surveys his work, feeling pretty pleased with himself. Their home looks and smells deliciously clean and inviting, a warm embrace for her to fall into when she walks in the door. He glances at his watch and decides he should go ahead and order the pizza, and as he swipes at the app on his phone, he double checks the champagne chilling in the fridge. Check and check.

Perfect. He smiles to himself, the smirk turning a bit wicked as he walks down the hall to light candles in the bedroom.

A perfect night for his perfect girl.

* * *

Her feet drag as she climbs the stairs up to their apartment, cursing herself all the way for moving into a building with no elevator. As if she weren’t tired enough from the absolutely hellish day she just had - even _thinking_ about work has her massaging her temples with a groan. And she absolutely, positively, _has to_ get new shoes for work, her feet hurt so _fucking_ bad it’s insane-

Nope. Nope! Completely done, she stops on the second flight of stairs with a huff, removing her heels one at a time and shoving them into her work bag. Files and various loose papers wrinkle in the process, but she doesn’t care at all; so what if the little blue fleck of gum on the bottom of her pumps gets stuck on the official copy of a contract? At this point, she’s practically daring someone to say something about it. Biting someone else’s head off for a change would be just delightful.

She continues up that flight of stairs and the next, barefoot, her bag heavy and awkward on her right shoulder with the addition of her shoes, toes pressing into the worn and dated green carpet covering the steps. In her head, she’s counting them, counting down - _10 steps to Bucky, 9 steps, 8 steps, 7, 6…_

When she unlocks the door and pushes it open, he’s waiting there, sweet smile curling up his soft lips. Of course, he must have heard her coming up the stairs - and she sags in relief, practically falling into his arms without even closing the door. He chuckles, tugging her closer while shuffling their positions in the hallway so that _he -_ ever responsible and paranoid - can close and deadbolt their door.

“Hi,” she mumbles into his chest.

“Hi, baby,” he whispers back, lips against her temple. “Rough day?”

She groans, shaking her head with her face still pressed against him.

“You’ve got no idea, Buck, it was just the worst-”

“Shh, shh,” he hushes her, rubbing her back with firm strokes. “You don’t have to talk about it. You can just relax, honey. I’m here.”

A heavy sigh puffs against his shirt, the heat of her breath felt through the fabric, and her shoulders drop a little further, the tension slowly melting as he softly sways her from side to side. They stand like that for a while, just breathing each other in, letting go of the day, coming home to each other. Though she’s never said it aloud, she lives for moments like this, when there’s nothing that matters outside the circle of his arms. Nothing else at all.

The insistent growl of her stomach interrupts them - loud and gurgling, and he chuckles in spite of himself. He pulls back a bit from their embrace, looking down with a fond smirk tilting up his mouth.

“Hungry?”

“ _Starving_ , Buck,” she pouts, a little dramatic, a playful whine coloring her tone. “Did you make dinner?”

“Even better.” A light press of his lips to the tip of her nose, his voice continuing in a whisper. “I ordered out.”

A soft gasp.

“Gusano’s?” Her eyes are sparkling and he wonders if she gets as excited for him as she does for pizza.

“Mhm. Got all the toppings you like, too.”

Touched, and sensitive from such a long day, her smile is so big it makes her tired eyes tear up just a bit. Sometimes, it just hits her - how lucky she is, how one-in-a-million her sweet super-soldier boyfriend manages to be every single day. It swells her heart full to bursting every time.

He doesn’t say anything else, just kisses her forehead and turns, keeping an arm wrapped around her shoulders and steering her to the bedroom.

“C’mon, babydoll - you go change,” he urges gently, stroking her arm. “Get in your comfy clothes, take your makeup off, all that jazz - I’ll grab the pizza and then we’ll see what we wanna watch, yeah?”

Her answering sigh is dreamy as she drops her head back to his shoulder.

“Where have you been all my life, Bucky Barnes?”

“Mm. Mostly in cryogenic storage,” he whispers, eyebrows wiggling as he leans in for a kiss. With a roll of her eyes she dodges his lips, letting them land on the side of her head as she smacks his chest and walks off to the bedroom. Chuckling, he lands a playful swat on her ass before skipping to the kitchen.

_What a man_ , she thinks, shaking her head as she digs through her dresser for a pair of soft college sweatpants. One-in-a-million.

* * *

Pizza box on the edge of the bed, bottle of champagne on the left nightstand. She’s settled between his legs, feeling full and pleasantly soft from the bubbly drink in her hand.

“We’re gonna keep watching this, right?” she hums as the credits roll on the first episode, button in the bottom corner counting down until the next one plays.

“Sure - as long as you don’t spend the whole night _ogling_ that guy’s ass,” he huffs, pinching her hip.

“Hey! It’s not my fault he’s got a great ass - but I never said it was better than yours,” she offers, sweet and apologetic, reaching up to pat his cheek. Even with her head only half turned, she can see the pouty scowl on his face, her hardened assassin looking more like a frustrated two-year-old. Adorable. What a man.

“Whatever,” he grumbles, shifting a little on the bed and tightening his arms around her, as though that might keep his girl in his lap rather than jumping through the screen and into the arms of the wig-wearing hunk whose strapping biceps currently have her attention.

The second episode plays, she relaxes a little further, finishing her second glass of bubbly. When he murmurs in her ear, she lets him take the glass and set it on the nightstand, out of the way. He shifts forward and grabs the pizza box, too, moving it to the other nightstand - both of them have eaten their fill and all that’s left in the box is a scrap of crust, nibbled all the way up till there’s nothing left but seasoned bread.

There’s a little shifting, a little wiggling, as he settles them both back against the headboard. In true “Princess and the Pea” fashion, Bucky’s got no less than three pillows fluffed behind his back, cushioning him against the hard wooden headboard. When he’s finished shuffling around, he strokes her sides for a moment, pulling her back flush against him and wraps his arms around her waist, sighing in contentment.

“Comfortable?” she giggles. His only reply is a low hum and a squeeze of his arms.

They go back to watching episode two, trying to follow the separate timelines and magical rules that have yet to be explained in the story world. She’s got her eyebrows drawn together, puzzling out where the hunchbacked mage might fit in to all of this; while the women on screen test their magic powers, she feels warm lips travel to her neck.

At first, she tries to ignore him, intent on watching the show; but the warm, wet kisses trailing up and down the side of her neck have her tilting her head, silently asking for more…

“Watch your show, baby,” he whispers, husky voice sending a delicate shiver down her spine. The tip of his tongue traces over the shell of her ear. “Don’t want you to miss your man.”

She intends to make a derisive snort, but it comes out as more of a hiccuped gasp when one of his hands slips just under the hem of her t-shirt, fingers spider-walking up the skin of her stomach. Her mouth is dry when she tries to swallow and bring her hazy eyes back to the TV.

It works for a few moments, maybe minutes, as he softly strokes the warm skin of her belly, his other hand tracing the waistband of her sweats. His mouth never leaves her neck and shoulders, switching from one side to the other, gently letting his teeth scrape over her sweet spot and her earlobe. All tender, unhurried caresses, and she sinks further into him, into the warmth of them both in their room, their world.

She chokes on her gasp when his hand slides up to cup her breast.

“You still watching, honey?” he hums, a smile pressed against her jaw.

“Uh-huh,” she manages when his finger circles her nipple.

“Good.” He nuzzles her cheek a little bit, stubble scratching along her smooth skin as his hand continues to massage her breast - his fingers still soft, barely squeezing, just enough to tease.

His other hand finally wiggles past her waistband - but stops at the seam of her underwear, just a few inches in. She’s watching, she is, she _is_ ; her eyes are on the screen, on the very handsome monster hunter with a jaw that could cut glass, her hand gripping Bucky’s thigh. She’s absolutely paying attention to the show, and not at all frustrated with the light strokes of his fingers across her hips and mound, still outside of her panties. Fingers stretch a little further, so he’s massaging her inner thigh in time with the squeezes to her breast. It’s getting a little hot in here - maybe she shouldn’t have worn such thick sweats and fuzzy socks…

This time, she can’t help herself as she digs her nails in his thigh, his index finger lightly tracing her folds over her underwear. It _almost_ tickles. She _almost_ whines. Bites her lip instead to hold it back, her breath hitching in her chest.

“Bucky,” she huffs.

“Hm?” He licks her neck.

“Are you going to do something?” It comes out weaker than she meant it to, more desperate than demanding.

“I thought you wanted to watch your show?” he suggests, feigning innocence. “Don’t you wanna watch Netflix with my hand down your pants? You can have both, honey.”

Her thighs twitch when his fingers press a little firmer, just an ounce more pressure - still barely anything, still not enough. She does whine this time, trying to wiggle her hips closer to his hand.

“Go on, admire his ass some more, sweetheart,” he chuckles. “I know you think it’s cute.”

The hand in her shirt switches to the other breast and tweaks her nipple, just on the pleasant side of painful. She licks her lips, blinking to regain focus on the screen, feeling way too hot. Bucky seems unbothered, though, continuing his ministrations and ignoring the TV altogether.

Her teeth sink into her lower lip when his hand slides around to grab a handful of her ass, gripping tight then playfully popping the seam of her panties with his finger.

“You’ve got a pretty cute ass, too,” he teases, his hand gliding back to its place between her thighs.

She huffs again, unable to stop herself from arching into the hand that’s attentively playing with her breasts. Alright then. Two can play at this game - she releases her death grip from one of his thighs and slides her hand back, just behind her, letting her nails drag over the prominent bulge in his sweats.

He hisses through his teeth, releasing her breast to grab her wrist. His other hand slips out of her pants to snatch her hand that remains clasped to his thigh

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart,” he nips at her shoulder. With a firm grip, he moves her hands up behind his neck, letting her fingers tangle in the sweaty strands at his nape. “You keep those right here and enjoy your show, alright? I ain’t done with you yet.”

Satisfied that she would stay put, he lets his hands glide back down - over the length of her arms and down her sides, before gripping the hem of her shirt and hiking it up above her breasts, both hands immediately giving them a firm squeeze. Lower lip trapped between her teeth, she barely holds back the low moan in her throat and fights to refocus her eyes on the screen again, a herculean task with his fingers plucking at her nipples like that.

The heat between her legs continues to build, despite both his hands occupied with her chest, and she can’t help but lift her hips a little, a blind, desperate search for friction, attention, anything. A particularly hard tweak of her nipples had her whining loud, a jolt of electricity going straight between her thighs. She tries to rub her thighs together to get some relief, but Bucky’s too quick - he hooks his own feet on the inside of her ankles and keeps both their legs spread open wide.

She moans his name, heady and desperate, arching into his hands.

“S’alright, I gotcha,” he hushes her, his lips still fastened to her neck. Always wants to take care of his girl. He’ll always give her what she wants…eventually.

Achingly slow, he drags a hand down from her breasts, tracing over her stomach and into her sweats again. He snaps the waistband of her underwear again - once, twice, _what an asshole_ \- before sliding down further to rub her core through her panties. Her breath hitches at the feel, the friction, her thigh muscles tightening as he uses his knuckles to firmly stroke her up and down. Wetness pools in her underwear, more and more as he rubs little circles around her clit with his thumb.

“Can feel you gettin’ so wet, honey,” he rasps, breath hot on her ear. “This all for me? Huh?”

All she can give is a nod and an “uh huh” as his fingers press her clit and pinch her nipple at the same time. A tiny whine escapes her lips, sweat breaking out along her back where they’re pressed together, his erection impossible to ignore as she wiggles against him.

Panties soaked now, ruined, when he finally, _finally_ slips inside, cupping her pussy with his warm hand. With his thumb and pinky, he parts her swollen folds and traces his index and middle fingers up her slit.

“ _Fuck_ , you’re fucking soaked, sweetheart,” he moans, his fingers running through her folds, circling her entrance before bringing the wetness back up to rub her clit. His fingers spread her a little further, tugging back the hood, and he draws firm circles around her bud, just the way he knows she likes.

“Oh, oh fuck, _Bucky-_ ” she pants and whines, hips rolling into his hand, his other fingers still working over her breasts. Her head feels light, almost dizzy, and a tight feeling grips her low in her belly, her toes starting to curl and twitch. Fingers yank hard at his silky soft hair, the strands wrapped in her fists. “Bucky, _please._ ”

“Don’t gotta beg me, honey - don’t gotta beg for anything,” he coos against her sweaty cheek. With his hand now soaked, he slips two fingers inside, curling them against her upper wall into _that_ spot that makes her-

“Oh my god, _oh god_ , right there-”

“I know, baby, I know.”

His hands working her over like an instrument, there’s no more pretense of even glancing at the TV screen - her eyes flutter as he rhythmically strokes her higher, gushing wet sounds as he drives his fingers in and out, dragging the heel of his palm against her clit. All the while, his other hand plucks and circles her nipples, palms her breasts, his tongue and teeth attached to the sensitive little place on her neck. Her mouth hangs open, gasps and moans that sound vaguely like his name, fingernails raking down his scalp and the back of his neck.

“Come on, honey, come for me - come for me.” He pulls his fingers from her and goes back to circling her clit at a frenetic pace.

It’s enough - the coil in her belly snaps and she arches back with a cry, her legs shaking and hips rocking up against his fingers, head falling back against his shoulder. His fingers don’t stop as he works her through it, holding on to her high, his lips pressed against her temple as he murmurs sweet words into her skin.

“Good girl, oh _good girl_ \- there’s my sweet girl, huh?” He presses little kisses down her temple to her cheekbone, following the path of the sweet-tasting sweat beading on her forehead.

He lets his fingers slow against her, and finally removes them when she starts to twitch away from him, sensitive and sated. Letting his hand fall from her breasts to her stomach, he rubs softly over her skin, feeling her ribs expand under his palm as she catches her breath. His other fingers go straight to his mouth, sucking obscenely, not letting a drop of her wetness go to waste. She peels an eye open at his appreciative groan, the corner of her mouth tilting up in a tired smile.

“You perv,” she laughs, her voice low, content. She pats his cheek with one hand at the indignant look on his face, but he merely shrugs and dips his finger back down for a second helping, licking off his fingers with a loud smack.

“Can’t help it. You’re too damn sweet,” he grins, smug and lusty, loving the way she’s still a bit breathless and soft in his arms.

She rolls her eyes and catches a glimpse of the TV screen, where the credits are rolling on their show.

“Whoops…I think I barely caught any of that,” she giggles, slapping his leg. “Which would be your fault, by the way.”

“Eh, we can just rewatch it if you want to-”

“Later,” she interrupts, sitting forward and turning around on the bed. Her limbs still feel shaky from her orgasm, but she plants her palms on his chest and straddles his lap, landing firmly on his still straining erection. Bucky moans low and grips her hips, his eyes blown dark with need. She leans in close, her lips brushing lightly over his.

“I think it’s your turn,” she whispers, tongue tracing his lower lip. He dives in with a growl, devouring her mouth.

Netflix entirely forgotten.


End file.
